


I Never Really Thought That You'd Come Tonight

by pickapersonality



Category: Bandom, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Alternate Universe - Medieval, Elf Brendon, Elf/Human Relationship(s), Fluff, Human Dallon, M/M, Sort of drabble?, Too Weird To Live Too Rare To Die Era, brallon, someone teach me how to tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 11:41:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11943438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pickapersonality/pseuds/pickapersonality
Summary: "I'm leaving." Brendon's words were probably harsher than usual, but he couldn't bring himself to be soft anymore. "I'm going East. I don't know where, or how to find my people, but I'm going. If you want to come with me, then I'll be waiting by the shop tonight. I'll wait until midnight." Dallon was silent as Brendon took his hands, squeezing them gently. "And then I'm gone."-Brendon is waiting under a silver moon, watching the path ahead with wistful eyes, wondering if he'll be journeying alone.





	I Never Really Thought That You'd Come Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> I don't know which corner of my mind this came from, but here it is. Yay. Please enjoy some brallon; maybe it's very very dead, but it can live on in our hearts. 
> 
> Title taken from Far Too Young To Die by Panic! Cause Everyone's Left

Brendon adjusted the final buckle on the saddlebag, tightening the leather strap as far as it would go, before fixing it to stay securely next to the saddle. The grey mare nickered quietly, addressing him with huge, dark eyes and nuzzling for a sugar cube from his pockets. He rolled his eyes, and fed her one from his pocket, smiling softly as she gently took it from his palm. 

They stood out of sight of the town's main road, tucked away into the alleyway running next to the tailor's shop. The night was cold, sky clear of cloud and bearing a heaven's worth of stars, all twinkling silently, out of reach of lowly mortals. The horse's breath misted in the chilly air, clouds of white steam perpetrating the otherwise-still frostiness of late-winter. Rubbing his hands together, Brendon huddled closer to share some of the mare's body heat. 

He didn't know why he was still here. 

He'd made up his mind ages ago; he was going to leave this town, this stinking, cruel mass of rotting buildings and cold people, always quick to judge and slow to forgive. As an elf, born here by a dying Elven princess, he'd been cast out and mistrusted for his entire life. The fact that he was, in fact, entitled to some far-off Eastern throne had simply added to his problems; 'sharp-ears' and 'demon-wielder' (although he'd never so much as seen one of the Elven demons) had been mixed with 'snob' and 'posh prince'. Those were among the least offensive jabs at his heritage. 

For months, he'd been working as hard as he could at his job in the tailor's, smoothing and ironing silks, stitching them into luxurious garments. He'd been hired by Janet, the old sewing spinster, for his gentle touch and careful eye. She'd managed to put up with his fiery personality, and had never been too cruel. He almost cared for her. 

And now, here he was, bags packed full of provisions and hard-earned gold, a sturdy, strong mare he'd just about managed to afford, and pure, driving ambition. He was going to finally get out of here; he was going to return to the home he'd never known, if it took him a hundred years. Elven lifetimes tended to last for a few centuries, anyway. 

"Damnit,' he muttered, smoothing a hand over the mare's dappled neck. She looked at him, almost exasperatingly, as if she knew the reason for their wait as well as he did. 

Dallon Weekes. Crown Prince of Asgate, this city being the capital of the huge, teeming land of men. Brendon had first met him when he'd enquired at the tailor's, after a suit for some ball or another, and as soon as Brendon had cast his eyes over the boy's sparkling ones and far-too-handsome-for-his-own-good face, he knew he was fucked. 

Brendon heaved a sigh, staring up at the stars. 

Their quickly-blooming friendship of secret meetings whenever Brendon wasn't working had spiralled into kisses, loving smiles, sneaking away into the forests surrounding the city to sit next to the gushing river that had protected the city for millennia from invaders. Now, it could be easily crossed by anybody coming or going, and Brendon had often looked at that bridge from far-off, a longing tug pulling at his heart, before Dallon had pulled him away with a gut-wrenching embrace. 

Brendon could still see the shock, hurt, betrayal in his eyes as Brendon had told him of his plan. 

_"I'm leaving." Brendon's words were probably harsher than usual, but he couldn't bring himself to be soft anymore. "I'm going East. I don't know where, or how to find my people, but I'm going. If you want to come with me, then I'll be waiting by the shop tonight. I'll wait until midnight." Dallon was silent as Brendon took his hands, squeezing them gently. "And then I'm gone."_

No more words had passed between them, and Brendon had left shortly afterwards, to pack up his few possessions. 

Now, he glanced up at the moon, a full, gleaming orb hanging like a lantern to light the sky. It was almost right above, and it cast an alluring, silvery light over the cobblestones. It seemed to almost be tempting him, saying, 'come on, this is your chance.' 

Brendon set his shoulders, swallowed down the disappointment washing up. Of course Dallon wasn't coming with him. He was a Prince in this kingdom, the Crown Prince, no less. Why would he cast it all away for some elf, whose heart belonged a continent away? Tightening his hands to fists, Brendon gave the mare a firm pat on her neck, and was about to place one foot in the stirrup, swing upwards, when- 

A single set of hurried footsteps, tapping over the cobblestones behind him, and there was Dallon, standing alone in the alleyway, wrapped in a cloak, sword hanging at his side. Brendon's eyes automatically sank to gaze at the weapon; he'd seen Dallon fight with it, almost knock people's heads off their shoulders. No wonder he was the King's favourite son: a perfect fighter, exactly what a war-loving kingdom needed. 

The shock seemed to punch him in the stomach, harder than all of the times he'd been beaten black and blue put together. 

Dallon approached the mare slowly, eyes unsure and torn. Brendon stood completely still, white knuckles gripping the leather reins. 

"I wasn't sure you would still be here," Dallon's voice was hushed, silky on the night air. "But you waited." 

Brendon was surprised by how steady his voice was. "I said I would. Do you take me for a liar?" 

"Of course not." A coy grin was playing around the corners of Dallon's mouth, and Brendon, against his more logical thoughts, grabbed the taller boy's collar and dragged his mouth down to meet his. The kiss was punchy, rough, heat pulsing from mouth to mouth in a hot, brushing embrace. Dallon grinned against his mouth, and pushed back hard. Brendon trailed his hands up, fingertips glancing over Dallon's chest, shoulders, neck, before entwining themselves in his dark hair, grabbing rough handfuls. A heart-stopping sensation pushed its way up through his ribcage, escaping in a soft groan into Dallon's mouth. 

Dallon broke away slowly, hands having found their way to the shorter boy's hips. He grinned down at Brendon, eyes blown and dark. "I was the liar, for not coming sooner." 

A thousand rushing emotions seemed to burst inside Brendon, filling him with a warm, tingling feeling that stretched from his toes to the tips of his pointed ears.

Brendon rested his head in the crook of the Prince's neck, nestling in the warmth. "Thank you. For coming." 

"Will you let me go with you?" Dallon's voice was no more than a whisper now, almost lost on the night's breeze. "Wherever you go?" 

"Of course." The promise was made solid through Brendon's firm, determined words. "And you will stay next to me, when I find my home." 

"I swear." 

And no more words were exchanged between the two boys that night, as Brendon sat in front of Dallon on the grey mare. They left that city, horse's hooves clattering over the cobbled streets, as the moon lit their path. And they found their way together, two lost princes, knowing that wherever the road took them, they'd be together.


End file.
